


Get Along

by triste



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When you were my age, you had posters of unicorns on your walls."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Along

Title: Get Along  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Hetalia  
Pairing: America/England  
Category: AU  
Rating: PG  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

Because the summer holidays are too long and boring to spend at home, Sealand invites himself to stay with England. He’s not the only one intending to leech off him for the next few weeks, it seems, as France is already there when Sealand arrives. Switzerland turns up shortly after with his little sister in tow.

Sealand doesn’t like it. England has always been a bit of a git with him, but he’s all sweetness with Liechtenstein. Sealand watches them playing football together and pretends not to feel jealous or left out. The only consolation is France taking over the kitchen to keep England from killing them with his cooking. The company may be bad, but at least the food is not.

~~

Inevitably, France soon gets round to showing off the pictures from his and England’s student days. Unsurprisingly, most of them feature France molesting various people (and at least one of him and England in dresses). Amusingly, England’s nickname at university was Streaker. England denies this, but Sealand has long since learned that France can be an invaluable source of information when it comes to embarrassing stories about the past.

It’s amazing, Sealand thinks, how France has been able to prevent England from destroying any photographic evidence. Apparently, he keeps the negatives locked away in a well-hidden place, one that England has tried and failed for years to find.

England burns France’s current set of pictures out of spite, but like a phoenix rising from the ashes, a brand new set appears the next morning courtesy of the local photography shop.

~~

Switzerland is a professional when it comes to clay pigeon shooting, Sealand discovers. England is not nearly as good. He’s also a very sore loser. France commiserates him by wearing nothing but a necktie, which England promptly tries to strangle him with, but is eventually placated with the promise of alcohol.

England is a miserable drunk. Switzerland is a scary drunk. France, on the other hand, is exactly the same drunk as he is sober.

Sealand doesn’t even bother using his mobile phone camera for blackmail purposes. Watching adults making fools of themselves in front of children isn’t really as funny as it ought to be, though Sealand does take great pleasure in exacerbating England’s hangover the following day by bouncing up and down on his mattress and playing his iPod on full blast.

~~

Five days into his vacation, Sealand’s opinion of England changes when he wakes up to find France in bed with him. Disturbingly, he’s nude, and it takes Sealand almost a full minute to find his voice and start screaming.

England is the one who runs to his rescue. He immediately forces France into a rather impressive chokehold and threatens to castrate him for putting the moves on his underage nephew. France, as soon as England allows him to speak, defends himself by saying how cold it was in his room and that he just wanted to share someone’s bed for warmth. Sealand understands now why England always keeps his doors and windows locked whenever France is around (and why France once got stuck attempting to find an alternate route into England’s room; the fire brigade was not best pleased at having to extract a naked man from his chimney).

England reminds Sealand that he can actually be kind on occasion when he takes him to the kitchen to calm him down with tea and crumpets. Sealand is too traumatised to return to his own room, but too stubborn to ask if he can share England’s. Unbeknownst to Sealand, England must possess the ability to read minds, because he tactfully suggests Sealand might want to stay close to him for a while.

Sealand accepts gladly, but makes sure to kick up a fuss and act like it’s a huge pain. He doesn’t want to appear like he’s eager or anything, after all.

It’s not so bad, having to share a bed with England. It’s infinitely better than sharing one with France, at least, if only because England sleeps clothed. He sits on one side of the bed doing his embroidery while Sealand sits on the other with his notebook computer.

“Don’t stay up too late,” England says, once he’s ready for sleep.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Sealand grumbles, but he shuts down his computer and turns the lamp off anyway.

~~

He’s still rude and cheeky, but Sealand does make an effort to be slightly nicer to England. He even teams up with him when they play a game of tennis with Switzerland and Liechtenstein (proper tennis, England insists, not the Wii sports version). Sealand, who is far more used to playing people online than he is face to face, enjoys himself immensely, though he tries to act otherwise. England is, thankfully, better at tennis than he is at clay pigeon shooting, and they defeat their opponents with ease.

They drink lemonade and eat cucumber sandwiches afterwards. Sealand doesn’t think he’s ever seen England smile so much before.

“This is how summer should be,” England says. “Aren’t you glad you came, Sealand?”

“No,” Sealand retorts automatically. “Being with you sucks arse.”

It’s a knee-jerk reaction to deny anything his uncle says, so the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. England’s face falls, and Sealand finds himself feeling bad. Liechtenstein steps in to repair the situation.

“I’m glad,” she says brightly. “Big brother and I always have fun whenever we come to visit you, England-san.”

“I guess that’s true,” Switzerland says gruffly. “Not that we couldn’t afford to go on vacation elsewhere, just so you know. It’s more cost-effective to come here instead of booking a cruise, or whatever. I’d rather save the money for more important things. It’s not like we’re broke or anything.”

“England-san's house is just as big as a resort,” Liechtenstein adds. “It really is like being on holiday here!”

“And you’d only be lonely stuck in this huge mansion all on your own,” Switzerland smirks. “Everyone knows how desperate you are for company.”

“That’s not true!” England snaps, his face bright red as Switzerland continues to tease him.

~~

Sealand doesn’t try to be difficult on purpose. He’s never been honest with his feelings. He doesn’t mind England being angry with him (if anything, it’s sort of fun), but he doesn’t like making him sad. Since he isn’t quite sure how to make England happy, what with him being almost permanently defensive and suspicious, Sealand decides to annoy him instead.

“Do you really hate me that much?” England asks one day, offended when Sealand posts some of France’s pictures on his blog for people to laugh at. “I thought we were finally starting to get along?”

“That was you imagining things,” Sealand tells him. “You should pay more attention to reality.”

England sighs. “I honestly don’t understand you. Why do you behave this way? I was nothing like you when I was your age.”

“When you were my age, you had posters of unicorns on your walls,” Sealand snickers.

“France had posters of page three girls on his,” England says tartly.

“Boobs are better than horns. Phallic imagery is stupid.”

England blushes. “Unicorns are all about purity of the heart and soul. Phallic imagery has nothing to do with it. And besides, you’re not old enough to be talking about such things.”

“I also wasn’t old enough to sell your virginity on eBay last year, but that didn’t stop me from trying.”

England fumes at the memory. It makes Sealand grin.

~~

A lot of bickering follows over the next few days but then England’s attitude towards Sealand changes. The only word Sealand can use to describe it is shifty. Of course, it causes him to suspect something.

“What’s up with England?” Sealand asks France, speaking to him voluntarily for the first time since the night of his trauma.

France winks. “He’s preparing for a visit for a certain somebody that he doesn’t want anyone to know about. Why else would he be so secretive?”

Now Sealand is confused. “I don’t get it. How come he’s being so weird about this person? He’s never been like that with you or the other guys.”

“Ah, but this one is special,” France confides. “Unlike us freeloaders, he’s just here on a ‘flying visit’, or so I’ve been told. England’s strict instructions were not to interfere.”

“But you’re always sticking your nose into his business,” Sealand points out.

“I wouldn’t be so insensitive as to stand in the way of romance."

Sealand’s brain screeches to a halt. “Wait, what?”

France makes a zipping motion across his lips. “I’ve said too much. Don’t ask for more, I won’t tell. See with your own eyes if you’re really that curious.”

Sealand has no idea what is going on anymore, but France, true to his word, remains uncharacteristically reticent.

~~

Things get even stranger that evening when England orders Sealand to sleep in his own room for the night.

“And don’t come into mine, no matter what happens,” he insists, his tone urgent. “I mean it. You must not enter my room under any circumstances.”

“Why?” Sealand demands.

“Just because,” England says evasively. “You still have the rape alarm I gave you, right? I don’t expect it’ll happen, but sound it if France tries anything. Switzerland will answer you. I lent him a shotgun for a reason.”

“That’s insane!” Sealand cries. Then he narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Hey, have you hired a rent boy?”

Predictably, England goes red. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s someone I haven’t seen for a long time. That’s all.”

But Sealand knows when his uncle is lying, or at least sidestepping the truth. “I know you’re rich, but you shouldn’t force yourself into paying for sex. Being a virgin can’t be that bad. Hold on for a few more years and I’ll make you my bitch when I’m older. Everybody gets taller than you once they reach adulthood. You’re a midget. Even I’ll get taller than you, someday. When that happens-”

“Bed. *Now*,” England interrupts, and his expression is so fearsome Sealand scuttles out of his way before he really loses his temper.

~~

Having finally made up his mind, Sealand steals the set of spare keys England keeps in case of emergency. He pretends to be asleep when England comes to check on him, and then watches the clock on his mobile phone once he hears the door shut.

He waits for a full thirty minutes before slipping out of his room and sneaking down the hallway. As expected, England’s door is locked, but Sealand soon rectifies that. He opens the door as quietly as he can, just enough to see what’s going on inside, and for the second time that day, his brain abruptly stops working.

England is in bed with a naked man that isn’t France. Worse still, England is equally naked.

This is his uncle, Sealand reminds himself, the one who feeds him those vile scones and used to play pirates with him when he was younger, the one that he’s only ever seen as eccentric and asexual.

France is a pervert, he’s always known that, but there’s something about England having the same urges Sealand can’t accept.

“Stop right there!” he yells, throwing the door the rest of the way open and startling the occupants of the bed into looking in his direction.

“What the hell?” is all England can manage before hurriedly throwing the covers over himself and his partner. “How did you get in here?”

“With the spare key, duh,” Sealand says. “But seriously, stop! I told you not to get a rent boy. You don’t know how many STDs he’s infected with. And I bet he’s addicted to drugs. You can’t do this!”

The naked man looks at England in bemusement. “Rent boy?”

“Ignore him,” England advises. “Sealand, get out,” he adds, raising his voice. “We’ll talk this over as soon as we’re dressed.”

~~

Naked man, according to England, turns out not to be a rent boy after all, but rather England’s significant other, the one he’s trying to be discreet about. His name is America, Sealand is told, and England has been going out with him for the past six months.

“But...” Sealand says weakly. “But why do *you* have a boyfriend? You’re a Nobby No Mates. How could you be *dating* someone?”

“Don’t be rude,” England says sharply. “Also, you’re embarrassing me. Apologise.”

“But...” Sealand says. “But...”

“Cute kid,” America remarks to England. “Is he yours?”

England rolls his eyes in response. “Of course not, he’s my brother’s.”

“Oh. I see the resemblance, especially around...” America trails off, motioning towards his eyebrows.

England clears his throat. “Well, now that the introductions have been made, I think it’s time for everyone to go back to bed.” He gives Sealand a particularly hard stare. “I trust they will be staying there.”

Sealand nods mutely. It’s going to take a while for his newly acquired knowledge to sink in.

~~

He’s recovered sufficiently by morning, though, and he glowers at America in mistrust over the breakfast table.

“Why are you going out with him?” he complains to England. “He’s nothing but a four eyes!”

“My eyesight’s not that bad,” America protests. “Glasses make me look hot.”

“And he’s fat,” Sealand continues stubbornly.

“I’m well-built,” America corrects, flexing one arm. “This is all muscle.”

Sealand gives up. None of his insults seem to work on this person. America is simply far too thick-skinned and full of himself. He’s also eating burgers for breakfast, oblivious to everyone else’s distaste. Meanwhile England drinks his tea serenely while somehow simultaneously managing to emit an oppressive aura. He only ever gets like this when he’s in a really bad mood.

Sealand prays England won’t curse him.

“I’d be pissed off too,” France says to Sealand under his breath. “If I’d been prevented from having sex with someone for the first time, I mean. I was hoping his temperament would improve after getting laid. That’s why I introduced America to him, but...”

England glances at France over his teacup. France shuts up.

“What’s wrong with you guys?” America says cheerfully. “You’re all so quiet!”

America evidently has no talent in reading the atmosphere. Sealand wonders how on earth he and England have managed to get along until now.

France clears his throat. “So, America,” he begins. “How long will you be staying?”

“I’ll be leaving early tomorrow,” America replies. “It sucks that I can’t hang out longer.”

France forces a weak smile under England’s glare, but then the sudden beeping of his mobile phone serves as a merciful distraction. “A message,” he says, sounding relieved. He reads it aloud. “‘I hope you’re having a pleasant vacation. I would very much appreciate being able to see your face again. Please feel free to invite me along sometime. Love, Russia.’”

Sealand is alarmed to say the least when everyone turns distinctly pale. “What?” he says anxiously. “What’s with that shady reaction?”

England’s smile is a terrifying sight to behold. It makes Sealand quail.

“Sealand,” he says, smile widening, “I believe I’ve found you a babysitter for the next twenty four hours.”

 

End.


End file.
